It is a common knowledge that Indonesian police officers often use their authority to bully and frighten us into thinking that we’ve broken some rules, when in fact they’re just on their usual duty prowling the streets looking for extra money (bribe money, that is).

This afternoon, I became one of their victims when I was just exiting the freeway gate at Bekasi Barat on my way home.

As usual, I always took the far left side because I wanted to turn left so I could drive past the entrance of Metropolitan Mall shopping centre and go straight home (my house is located right behind the shopping centre). The traffic was heavy as usual, so I could only get as far as being on the second left, but the road that led to the entrance of the mall could only fit two lines of cars anyway, and I’d driven past the same road hundreds of times and never had any police officers stopping me before.

As a driver, I drive politely – I always indicate before I turn, and I detest people who refuse to queue in line because I am always queueing and I never take over anyone’s car.

This afternoon – maybe because I was driving a tiny car, or maybe because I am a female driver, who the fuck knows – the asshole police officer decided that I would be his next victim. As I was turning left, out of nowhere a police officer walked right in front of my car and forced me to go on the right path because he said I wasn’t supposed to turn left, even though I was lining on the second left path and I was well inside the fence, not outside. I was adamant and I was still in the driving seat when I told him I wanted to turn left. He was still standing right in front of my car and he wouldn’t let me through.

Asshole.

Knowing that I wouldn’t budge, he walked right to the window and I told him I didn’t break any rules. I told him the whereabouts of my house but he wouldn’t listen to me. He kept telling me I should go right instead because I wasn’t allowed to turn right even though I was on the second left lane. I thought, “This fucker thinks he can get money out of me. Fine, I’ll fucking play his game!”

He asked for my car’s license and I refused to show it to him. He asked again for the second time so I took them out and he took my car’s license. He told me to take my driver’s license out of my wallet (I showed it to him while it was still inside my wallet)and he told me to pull over to the left side. When I did, he just walked off and continued (or pretending) to manage the traffic, still confiscating my car’s license in his hand.

I waited for him for a few minutes and I realised he wasn’t going to let me go that easily. So I put on my epaulet (which I had taken off from my uniform since they were so stiff), and I got off the car and walked right up to him.

Not surprisingly, he seemed to experience a constant attitude change the minute he saw me. Still, he managed to advise me that I was supposed to be on the far left side. I told him that I would be so happy if I could, but the fact was that the traffic was too heavy, it was freaking peak hour and I was actually lucky I could get into the second left lane. He was still babbling and I kept saying “Yes” to him just to hurry him up so I could go home. I told him I was sorry but I didn’t break any rules. I just wanted to shut him up.

Finally, he stopped talking and he let me go with no warning and no bribe money.

The fact was that, I didn’t break any rules. He didn’t stop the other cars who had gone before me, so why did he choose me? Was it because I happened to be a female? Was it because he thought he could scare me by abusing his authority as a police officer, who was supposed to protect and serve the people, aka me? Or was it because it had worked with other people and he was surprised that I wouldn’t buy into his game? Or maybe because it was almost the end of June and he was broke and in need of extra money to buy some cigarettes?

Whatever the reason was, I chose to fight back. I know that my uniform might play a big part on it, but he was abusing his rights by wearing the police uniform, so why couldn’t I? Besides, I was more than prepared to take this further should he force to send me to his office. I was even thinking about writing to the newspaper about this.

It was funny in a way, that he was a bit intimidated by my uniform. I guess he had never felt that way before, since it had always been the other way around for him.

If you’ve seen the latest coffee ad from Torabika, you’d know the tagline being said by Luna Maya at the end.

The ad starts off with Luna Maya sipping a cup of Torabika coffee, and then all of a sudden a Caucasian man comes up in the background, sips the coffee as well and shows genuine delight that he likes the coffee. The ad ends with Luna Maya saying the tagline which is the very title of this post, which means something like, “See, even foreigners like it!”

The term bule itself refers to Caucasian foreigners or westerners, and it can be derrogative or right down offensive to some of them. For most of Indonesian people, the term bule simply refers to the look of these people. But sometimes, it can mean so much more than just the looks.

In our culture, it is apparent that Westerners are much more appreciated in terms of their appearance and where they come from. Most Indonesians assume that just because someone is a Westerner, he or she must have a lot of money because this person might either be: a) on vacation with dollars to splurge, or b) an expat with dollar salary to spend.

What I want to know is what exactly is so wrong about or own opinion? Does a Westerner hold a better opinion than us? Does a Westerner have a better taste in coffee than us? As far as I’m concerned, Indonesia is a much richer country than those in Europe, which was why the Dutch colonized us for 350 years and taking away not only our pride and national identity, but also our natural resources.

Is it not enough that our country is still being ruled over by Westerners? What, you don’t think this is true?

Take a look around Jakarta. People are actually willing to spend at least Rp. 50,000 for a cup of Starbucks coffee, which is an American franchise, when we have our own home-grown coffee which is better in terms of quality and taste, but yet it is undervalued just because it doesn’t hold the Green Starbucks logo. How is this colonisation? Because it teaches Indonesians to devalue our own natural resources. We teach the future generation to be ashamed of sipping our home-made products. It is much cooler to consume foreign products.

Take a look at the Golden Arches that are scattered all over the Jabodetabek areas. One can purchase a full-on processed food that has no nutritional values whatsoever for as low as Rp. 5000, which is probably cheaper than a sack of Nasi Campur from the nearest stall.

One might wonder how can this be categorised as colonisation. Well take a look at some children who are already obese because their parents feed them processed, junk food from American fast food chains. When these children grow up, they will spend most of their money trying to slim down or cure their ailments caused by eating too much junk food. I think this is colonisation, because the money will be spent on medicines, which are made by foreign ingredients and created by foreign technologies.

Take a look around the high-end malls in Thamrin. Brands such as Zara and Mango decorated in huge billboards showcasing international models posing in seductive positions. These clothes are most probably made or assembled in China, and yet we are more than willing to spend hundreds if not millions of our rupiah to purchase these clothing, without knowing where our money actually goes. But do we feel the same towards Batik clothing? Are we willing to spend that much for a piece of Batik clothing, which is made by our very own craftsmen and women, who have spent hours decorating the cloth but are being paid so low because Batik is so undervalued when compared to imported clothing?

I’m not sure whether Luna Maya (or whoever had the idea to come up with the ad in the first place) realises that 60 years ago, it was our very own people who have fought for Indonesia to be free from colonisation. Ironically, these days we are more than willing to be colonised by foreign brands and products. And now, apparently, foreign thoughts and taste.

Thanks to Ecky and Yoyen who have tagged me in their I Am Awesome posts, because my blog seriously needs updating. Due to the hectic work life, I haven’t been able to update anything but that’s about to change now! So here it goes…

I am awesome because….

I am an independent woman who knows what she wants. I have a job that I love. I have a man that worships the grounds I walk on. I have a dog that loves me unconditionally. I have parents that albeit not perfect, love me with their own ways. I have a blessedly abundant life that makes me feel thankful everyday.

I have learnt that success comes when you work hard and put your faith in it. And that success is not about money, but it’s about achievements and pursuing the things that are worth getting. Success is about getting the lifetime experiences that makes me the person I am today.

I have finally found the job that I love and am passionate about. How many people can say the same? It’s a truly awesome feeling to know that I’m doing the things I love and getting paid for it at the same time!

I am loved by the most wonderful man in my life. He is my best friend, my partner in crime and my mentor in many things. He makes me feel so special and truly blessed, and he makes sure I know it too – everyday. Plus, he’s the only man who can stand being sexually harassed either by my dirty jokes or irresponsible groping.

I have the most beautiful son, Micah. He’s my precious gem and he never fails to let me know how much he loves me. He welcomes me with such pure happiness everyday, and he weeps his heart out whenever I leave him in the mornings. It is through him that I learn how to love unconditionally.

I have grown from a shy, ugly duckling to a confident sexy mama (ask Rima Fauzi if you don’t believe me), which is a transformation that takes lots of years of learning and practice.

I am myself, and not someone else. I make the people around me feel special (this one is from himself). Truly, I am an awesome lady.

And to spread the awesomeness around, I’d like the following awesome people to write seven awesome things about themselves:

1. Ivy, the stylish sexy mama

2. Toni, the awesome photographer

3. Elyani, my big sister who I miss very much

4. Parvita, the independent lady

5. Eru, the happy-go-lucky programmer in Bali

6. ChenChen, the girl who always makes me laugh

7. Mia, the absolute dog lover and owner of Becky’s Bits.

Let’s all embrace our awesomeness!

Being a female teacher is difficult.

No, no. Let me rephrase that. Being a female teacher is challenging. It is. Especially when you teach adult students in which about 99.99% percent of them are males in their early (and sometimes late) twenties.

Most of the time, the students are surprised to find out that I’m in my late twenties as well. I am indeed currently the youngest teacher at work, and that fact alone can make seem somewhat unconvincing – as a teacher and as a person they’re supposed to look up to.

I’ve gotten a few stares from students who doubt my abilities in the first days of their courses. Some even think it’s fine to actually attempt to flirt or even bordering on teasing me, even though as the company policy explains clearly on their orientation days, those actions alone can be categorised as sexual harassment.

It can be frustrating sometimes. Because like it or not, it’s common for Indonesian male to whistle, catcall or even yell obscene words to the opposite sex. This happened to me in one morning during my first two weeks since I started working; as I was getting out of my car and putting on my shoes (it’s absolutely impossible for me to drive wearing work shoes), I heard a whistle coming from a group of students who were gathering a few meters from where I was.

How did I feel? Insulted? Of course. Pissed off? Absolutely. Harassed? Definitely. But most of all, I felt hugely disappointed. I am passionate about my job and I care deeply about my students – and this is how they think of me? As a sex object in which they can whistle at just because they are used to get away with it most of the times?

A similar thing also happened yesterday morning,  in which it was my turn to teach the new Assistant Steward Lido class. At the end of the lesson, I was praising the students because they had been very good in answering questions, and all of a sudden one student who was sitting at the far right corner at the back started singing, “Because of you…” (Yes, you know that song, by that African-American whatshisname Martin?) in a way that was obvious that he was trying to tease me.

I immediately went up to him and demanded him to sing in front of the class. In which he started to get all embarassed and panicky, and his excuse was that he didn’t know the lyrics of the song. Of course I was only bluffing – all I wanted to do was trying to embarass him in front of the class simply because he was being an idiot. A few minutes after, he did exactly the same thing. Again.

I had to hold my anger because I wouldn’t want to yell obscenities to this student on his first day. It would be easy to go “Get the fuck out of my class, you fucking piece of shit!” and whatelses to him, but I thought better.

There are in fact procedures to handle these things. What usually happens is that the student get sent to the Academic Director (who always plays the bad cop role) and he will usually put the fear of God in him.

The fact is that singing, catcalling and whistling can all be perceived as sexual harassment. And this is a serious matter, because once they actually start working, they will have to deal with female (and male as well) American guests who are of course can be much more individual – in terms of clothing options  – than us, Indonesians.

But most of all it’s simply because we, as women have never had the courage to do something about it.  On the other hand, I am thankful that the place where I work in take sexual harassment very seriously. In other companies, us women would be thought crazy if we complain about such things.

Just like what Samantha Jones says, “Men are like dogs – the reason why dogs lick their balls is simple; Because they can.” Of course, she is talking about cheating, but I think the saying goes for harassing as well. Men can sexually harass women simply because they can.

So whenever I get the odd ones who try to be the class clown or simply try to test me – I’ll simply treat them like dogs.

Hey, it works with mine, except that my dog is far much better than them.

The fourth Land Coffee aka Kopi Darat was held yesterday at Grand Indonesia’s Social House, which was located in Harvey Nichols’ grocery shop in the West Mall. The ones who made it were Boy, Devi, Parvita and Toni.

Now, first things first – Grand Indonesia kind of irks me. The size of the place, for a start, is simply too big. It’s humoungous. No one needs a mall that big. But I could be wrong – apparently Indonesians do. But seeing as there was a full on hype about Social House, (to be exact I can’t remember who suggested this venue in the first place but never you mind), we decided to give it a go.

I arrived with himself around 1 pm and we had our lunch at Kafe Betawi. I ordered Laksa Betawi and himself ordered Soto Betawi with rice. For drinks, we ordered Avocado juice (mine) and his was Lemon juice. When the food arrived, I had to say that I was a bit unsatisfied – the Laksa was a bit too sweet to my liking. Himself also said the same thing about his Soto Betawi, I ended up asking for some salt from the waiter.

Another thing that I noticed was that the waitresses were kind of pouty and unsmiling. I guess I never noticed this before, but working in a place where the students were trained to work in a five-star hotel environment, I began to be more aware of how important customer service skills were.

At work, the students were expected to smile – all the time. It was one of the most important parts of their job. They were not only required to smile, but also to change their whole attitude in general, including their body postures (slouching and leaning against walls are big no-no’s), their conversational skills (being able to say “How are you today” and hold a general chit-chat with the guests were to be expected from them). For the students who were training to become Assistant Steward Lido, they were expected to greet everyone by their names, to smile and to work efficiently. That meant no idle chit-chat with their friends while on duty, and they had to know when was the time to clear the guests’ tables so that the guests could proceed to have the next meal course. They were also expected to find out whether everything was satisfactory and up to the guests’ expectations.

With all those things in mind, I began to understand how customer service skills could easily make a difference in places like restaurants and hotels where manners and good services were not only expected but also maintained and improved.

At Social House, unfortunately for them, I didn’t witness any of those things mentioned above. Even Devi, who was the first person to arrive, got a rude welcome by the maitre’d who told her that to be able to get in she’d have to have a friend who was already sitting inside. Did that mean a single person was not allowed to eat at Social House? A tad bit discriminative, don’t you think?

I don’t care if it was in Harvey Nichols or Harrods or whatever, I thought the rule of customer service was that you had to be nice to everyone, regardless of what they looked like. Just because Devi wasn’t wearing a Rp. 16 million rupiah worth of dress, it didn’t mean she couldn’t afford eating at Social House.

Another thing that I noticed was that there seemed to be an ample amount of waiters available but all of them seemed to be very clueless on waiting tables. Sometimes they’d huddle around and gossiped with each other in one corner, and the manager would just walk around and did nothing. When Boy ordered bottled water, the waiter tried to pour it into the glass but the lid closed back up, and he just kept on pouring, rendering the whole thing to be completely useless. Poor Boy had to tell him to just never mind and he ended up pouring the water by himself. Atrocious.

Devi and Parvita ordered one of those hip-and-happening juices with names like Stress Buster and whatelses, and Devi thought it was funny that her glass was smaller than the one that Parvita’s came with. I ordered Forget Me Not (a mocktail) and the glass size was the same as Parvita’s. She complained to the waiter but the waiter didn’t give any solutions to make her feel better. What was even more comical was when we ordered bottled water, the bottle was unbelievably tiny but the glasses were big. How ironic!

For food, himself and I ordered the spaghetti with spicy garlic oil, prawns and fresh parsley. It came out green, which was unexpected. I could tell that himself was a bit turned off by the overall tone of it as the menu itself didn’t have any pictures of what the dishes looked like, but he ended up tasting it a bit and I finished the whole thing off, half-heartedly, off course. The taste was nothing spectacular, sorry to say. I really thought they could’ve had done a better job with the taste. Perhaps they meant the pasta to be al dente but it still left a floury, chewy texture on my tongue.

Himself’s opinion on the Iced Cappuccino was not exactly mind-shattering either. He said the Iced Cappuccino in Dunkin Donuts was much better. Ouch!

Another thing that I noticed about the service of the waiters was that we were sitting there, still talking and we already finished our meal but we were still waiting for Toni who got held off at Senayan. It was clear that we were in no hurry whatsoever, but no waiter came up and cleared our tables. Even when we already ordered something else, the waiter just left without offering or having the initiative to do so, until I had to tell one of them to do it! Social House, where the hell did you hire these people from? Did they know any single thing about working in a hospitality business at all?

But enough about the downsides. Apart from the lack of customer service skills, the atmosphere of the place was great. I loved the architecture and it was cozy enough to stay for hours and have a chat with your friends (until the waiters started giving you hints to piss off, that is). It was an ideal place to take some photos as well (as evident by Toni and Parvita’s results of magic hands), as the overall lightings gave out a friendly and warm feeling to the whole outlook of the place.

As for the verdict – would I be going back there? I don’t know, we’ll have to see. If they continued with that kind of services, I’d definitely not. The food was standard by any means, the service barely gave out any plus points. Not to forget that it was a part of Harvey Nichols, one would think they’d offer something much more spectacular and of high standard.

Perhaps next time I should stick to Cazbar.